HelloGoodbye
by shabbytiger
Summary: One Shot -Dean gets drunk and has a motel car park encounter he won't forget.  Disclaimer: SPN is not mine and this is probably way OOC but what the hell. ;p  Rated M for language.


**Disclaimer: I Own Nothing.**

**Notes: First ever Destiel fic, feedback rocks as I now have a taste for the angst, but wanna do them justice, so, let me know? Thanks xx**_  
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_If I could turn back time,_

_If I could find a way,_

_I'd take back those words that hurt you,_

_And you'd stay…_

Fuck. Tears stung his eyes and Dean took another swig of his beer and dashed them away. Cher man. He was welling up over a Cher song being warbled out by two drunken blondes on the karaoke in this shitty bar in an ass backward town and he couldn't even front it out. What a douche he was. Since when did he grow a uterus anyhow? Jesus. At least Sam wasn't present to go all doe eyed and concerned on his ass. Much as he loved his brother, Dean was in no way ready to talk about Cas. Not with him at any rate. Taking another swig from his bottle he cleared his throat after, and glanced at his reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He wanted the rage back. He wanted to feel as angry about the dumb angel's actions as he had once benn, since being pissed off was his default setting anyhow. The anger had dissolved in the face of blue eyes begging forgiveness though, and no matter how much he reached for it, it simply wouldn't come.

"I'm sorry Dean."

That gravelly beseeching statement replayed in his head way too often lately. Kept him awake at nights truth be told and had him seeking comfort in bars like this, rather than whatever crappy motel room he and Sam had holed up in on their travels. Even motel rooms held too many memories. It was disturbing how many times he woke up sensing something, only to look for a figure in a trench coat at the side of his bed that would never appear there again. At least not in the coat that was now in the boot of the Impala. Fuck.

The months since the lake turned into a Leviathon soup had not lessened his grief. If anything, each day brought with it a fresh regret. And it was fucking him up. Sam noticed, Bobby noticed, hell, strangers noticed. Women who usually looked at him in bars with offers of sex now looked at him with soft eyes and pitiful smiles, like they knew he was broken, and rather than sexual gratification, they offered a maternal hand on his arm and an ear for his woes. Dean Winchester had morphed into the guy in the bar wanting to sob at the jukebox and it would piss him off if he didn't need the new found version of comfort so much. He talked about Cas sometimes, on the rare occasion he finally got wasted, and at first, when a busty blonde had cooed and rubbed his hand, and assumed Cas was a woman, he had gotten so enraged he had gotten himself thrown out.

Now he let them think what they liked.

It was too exhausting to explain anyhow. Truth was, he had loved Cas and lost him. It had taken him awhile to realise it. Too long. Way too long.

Yeah he was a slow bastard at times. It had been right there, right in front of him, and he had been too pissed to see it, too scared maybe, too fucking macho to cop to why Cas and his choices had hurt so God damn much, but now? Now the admission was a raw ache in his chest, an empty hollow knowledge that did nothing but hurt. Because Cas would never know. Even at the end, his angel had been all about Dean and his need to redeem his mistakes, and the memory of those blue eyes searching his so desperately stung like a bitch. Okay. That's all he had said, but the relief that had surged through him when Cas was really Cas again had been so immense, so utterly sweet that Dean hadn't had time to be all chatty Cathy about it, and then shit had gone to hell and Cas had truly gone for good and that was that and now, he had nothing but a trench coat and a gut twisted with regret and Dean wanted what Cher did. To turn back time. To give Cas the forgiveness he had wanted so badly before death had stolen the opportunity from them both.

Fuck. He saw blue eyes everywhere, but none were the right shade, none met his as deeply, or glowed as warmly as his angel's had. And Dean wanted to see them again. So badly, so fucking badly his hands trembled when he lifted liquor to his lips and the taste of each sip was bitter in his mouth and acid in his throat.

He had tried sex to dull the pain. Back when his grief had been less obvious behind his bravado. But that had ended up being messy and weird, since he had somehow gone for a black haired blue eyed stranger who had morphed into Cas every time he looked at her. Which was fucked up. Dean had gotten the hell outta there without even getting off, so disturbed had he been, because he hadn't been ready to own up to that truth yet. Now, that truth was unavoidable. Cas had been a longing he hadn't even consciously know he had back when he was alive. Now he was gone, the secret urges he had harboured for his angel were surfacing like shards of glass in his chest and cutting him up, his heart bleeding out internally till his lungs filled with so much hurt he forgot to breathe sometimes.

Would he have ever acknowledged those want's if Cas hadn't died? Who the fuck knew. It hardly mattered now he figured, since they were certainly recognised now. He thought on every look, every touch shared and felt such violent need to experience them again it wiped him out. Literally.

Outside the night was cold and sky black and Dean swayed beneath it as he crossed the car park and headed back to the motel. He looked up a lot. As if Cas was up there still, and he found himself praying it was true. But he knew it wasn't. Cas was just gone. Just. Gone.

He wondered if Cas knew his secret yearnings before he did. Cas had always been able to see into him so clearly, it wouldn't surprise him at all. In a way, it comforted him to think Cas knew what he hadn't been ready to own up to yet. At least one of them should have known. Right? Fuck. Dean wondered so many things about his angel that he would never know now. And that fact hurt the most. The never of it. The cold hard truth of death was one so often avoided by him and his brother. Death and the Winchesters had a tricky relationship. Both had died. As had many of their friends. Their family. Yet somehow, this death, was the most real of all to Dean. Hell he had seen his parents again. Gotten Sam back. Talked to Jo, though not in the best of circumstance but still…even Ellen had gotten a second, sad airing. They had been to Heaven and met ghosts and death could go fuck itself because they were not bound by it. But now…now Dean knew that Cas was not going to visit. Cas had died and it was final, total, the End with a full stop and it blinded him in a way he hadn't thought possible. Because Cas had been willing to die before. For him. For Sam, for the world. And this time, he had just walked into a lake and died for a mistake they had all been party to. Dean wondered so many times what would have happened if he had done as Cas had asked. Backed his plan. Would he have given the souls back straight away after resolving the angelic civil war? Would he have sensed the evil tainting him sooner if he hadn't been so hurt by their lack of faith in him?

Maybe.

He lay on the hood of the Impala instead of going inside the motel room. He just lay there and stared up at the stars and tried to empty his head of all the thoughts colliding within it, the cold barely touching him as the after effects of the booze in his veins kept him warm. However false that warmth was. When Cas spoke to him, he went with it, knowing he was losing his mind, but too buzzed and sad to care right now. Sam wasn't the only Winchester to lose it apparently. Crazy ran in the family.

"I will find a way to redeem myself to you Dean."

"Fuck that Cas. Just come back. Okay? Just come back."

"I would if I could. You know that don't you Dean? That I would if I could?"

"Yeah. I know." Tears blurred his eyes and he closed them, because that was the reality of it all. The truth that hurt more than any other. The fact that Cas wasn't back, hadn't found a way back, spoke to the finality of the situation like no other. He didn't appear on TV sets or call to Dean through the radio, didn't show up at all other than in Dean's tortured imagination.

"I regret that I did not fulfil my promise to you. That I could not redeem myself. If I could change one thing that would be it. That I could have been stronger Dean."

"Just shut up you dumb son of a bitch. You gotta stop with that shit. I don't care ya hear me?" Tears were running from his eyes as Dean gave in and opened them, seeing Cas staring back at him with the open honesty he missed so much, had told himself was a lie during his betrayal phase.

"But I made such a mess Dean. I let those monsters loose and it will never be okay again. I wish-"

"Letting monsters loose is a family curse. Welcome to the fucking club all right?"

"You hated me for betraying you. You never hated Sam. I understand why. I do."

"No you don't." Dean took a deep breath. "I forgot okay? I forgot how much we changed you. How much I changed you. I thought you were perfect Cas. I expected you to be perfect, and that's on me."

"Perfect? I was never that Dean. I did so much I shouldn't have…even before the souls…"

"Like what?" Dean sat up, suddenly sober, and utterly focused on the deep raspy voice he knew wasn't real, but wanted to be. And this conversation felt real. It felt so real that his skin tingled and the hair on his nape stood on end. This was his angel talking. Not him this time, putting words into his angel's mouth.

"You Dean. I wanted you to love me and abandoned my path because of it. I was selfish. I hurt many."

"You wanted me to love you?" Now Dean scanned the motel car park, his stomach rolling, as he willed his angel to be there with all he had left in him. "Why?"

"Because you are Dean Winchester and taught me more about humanity in a few short years than I ever hoped or expected there to be to learn. Because you made me understand why my Father loved His creation as he did. Because you loving me would make me righteous. And good."

"Fuck Cas. You are good. Misguided, but good. I know that now. I know why you thought you had no choice." And he did. "Is that the only reason Cas? That me loving you would make you righteous?"

"No." Dean could almost hear his angel blushing and his heart swelled painfully. Why was he doing this to himself?

"Tell me. Tell me why Cas. Please." He didn't care that he was pleading to an imaginary ghost. He needed more. Needed to have the what if's acknowledged, even if they were his own grief stricken ramblings alone in some motel car park. Even if it changed nothing.

"I wanted you to love me because I loved you. I never loved anyone before and it is an awkward confusing emotion that I still do not fully comprehend. I do not know how humans survive it. Or why they wish for it. It hurts."

"Hurts?" Dean's lungs all but creaked in his chest as he tried to breath. "Well I guess it does. It fucking hurts now. Now you're gone and I can't tell you how much I-"

Lips, soft as butter brushed his and he started, shocked, before the lips flinched away. It was enough to have him lean forward, reaching out. Wait. Wait.

"I'm sorry Dean. I fear I do not fully understand why, but I wish I had done that before the end. I know my vessel is wrong for you. I wonder if I had chosen differently-"

"Shut up Cas. Your vessel is –_was_-beautiful. Jesus, you think that shit matters? You think-"

"It did though didn't it? Is that not why we never did this?"

Another flutter of lips on his. So sweet. So damn sweet. Dean groaned. Belatedly he wondered what anyone watching would think, as he sat on the hood of his car making out with fresh air. He realised he didn't give a fuck.

"No, not entirely." And Dean sighed, leaning in and Cas was there, standing between his legs, kissing him, and it was weird and wonderful and his heart screamed with satisfaction as he reached out again tentatively and felt Cas, actually felt him, his body solid and hot and real beneath his hands as he tugged at the tie askew about his angels neck, pressed a palm against Castiel's chest. Oh man he was screwed.

"Then why did we waste so much time?" Cas breathed the query against his mouth, a growl in his tone, the accusation raw and bewildered.

"Because I never thought you'd not be here." And it was true. Dean caught Cas by the jaw and kissed him thoroughly, any wavering issues over his feelings for his fallen angel swept aside by the need twisting his gut, and the kiss exploded into an expression of every pent up desire he had ignored, every emotion he had experienced since losing the blue eyed man who haunted him daily. The angels skin was smooth yet a hint of stubble tickled Dean's palms and the texture scorched Dean's nerves as the very male feel of Cas did nothing but inspire a hotter burn in his gut. Because it _was_ Cas. His skin was raw and crackling and his mouth worked his angel's like they would never kiss again. Which they wouldn't. He knew it deep down. Knew that this bizarre motel car park meeting was real and imagined and a gift and a curse all in one. Cas tasted like summer, and the air was scented with the smell he associated with Cas, cut grass and blue skies, and it melted into him, surrounded him, invaded him along with the kiss that deepened, tongues duelling, caressing and meeting in a tangle of wants Dean had never dared express before now. More fool him. His angel was aggressive, no passive partner in this dance and Dean got hard as Cas fisted a hand in his hair, pulling him ever closer and the body pressing tight against his was tight and familiar and yet brand new, this physical need he had ignored for so long now blazing through him. Why had he ignored _this_? Cas in his mouth and hands and filling his senses was right. Right and good and way too fucking late, something he realised even as his spine arced and blood fried and the kiss grew desperate and Cas was grinding at him like a horny teenager. Gasping they parted, and Dean stared at the blue eyes he dreamed of now glittering with want.

"Hello." Cas spoke and smiled so shyly,Dean grinned, it was so Cas. Nerd angel. Hot fucking angel currently whipping him soul bare.

"Hello yourself." Dean felt muscles in his face ache such was the force of his smile. His hands settled on the angel's hips and Dean was fascinated by the feel of the body beneath his hands, the strength of it, the beauty of it. More. Dean wanted more, as Cas rubbed his cheek with his and the thrill of it was so intimate, it vibrated through him like nothing ever had or possibly would again. Dean squeezed his eyes tighter, breathing hard and nipping Cas greedily,hungry for all he would never now have. All he had never even known he would miss till now. His heart clenched into a bloody gasping fist behind his ribs. The kiss was slow and deep and exposed them both entirely. So entirely that Dean knew before the words came, and his bones snapped in protest.

"I'm sorry Dean."

Castiel tipped his head forward as he broke the needy kisses, touching Dean's with a tenderness that squeezed at Dean's heart. Not those words. Not _those_ fucking words. Dean clutched at Cas, hands fisting the shirt at the angel's waist, and every cell in his body ached, knowing this was goodbye. The goodbye they never got.

Cas pressed his lips to his forehead fiercely, his hand cupping the back of Dean's head hard and the hunter wanted to stay right there, to just feel this way for a while longer, to feel warm and wanted and then it was over.

The night was cold again. Lonely again. Cas was gone again.

Dean stared up at the night sky, and wondered if it had been real. Then he stood, and made his way to the motel room, not swaying any more.

It didn't matter, he decided, as he entered the room, and made his way to the bath room, careful not to wake his sleeping brother.

Looking at his reflection, his lips were swollen, and eyes bright.

It didn't matter he told himself, even as his heart soared a little. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and felt the sadness seep back, _it didn't matter_.

But when he climbed into bed and before sleep took him, he allowed himself a small smile as he touched his mouth, still swollen and smooth from a kiss he figured didn't matter was real or not.

Maybe it mattered a little after all.


End file.
